Trying to Understand
by Foxes at Night in Tailcoats
Summary: Tweek has made his higher education decisions. Rated T for language at this stage. I do not own South Park.
1. Chapter 1

I stared at my boyfriend, slightly in shock. I'm sure that I still had toast dangling from my lips at this point, I'm not 100% sure. What I was sure of was that he had just said something very, very unexpected. Something monumental.

And as it was morning, and I am (famously) not a morning person, I was very, very unprepared to deal with this news.

'What?!' Whole Food's granery toast sprayed out of my mouth in shock, causing my mother to admonish me with a sharp 'Craig!' Yeah, makes sense she would remark on that and not on the bombshell my significant other just dropped.

'It's just that . . . I've been thinking . . . umm . . . .' Tweek looked down into his lap, hands suddenly there twisting at each other. I didn't make a move to stop them, however, my staring must have gone on slightly too long and they reached up for his hair. That's when I found myself automatically moving forwards to dis-entangle them, the move so ingrained I didn't even notice I was doing it until he raised his massive green eyes to mine and I realised our noses were almost touching.

FLASH! Ruby had clicked a photo on her phone and dashed off giggling 'Super Cute!'

The seriousness of the situation was cemented for me when I didn't immediatly dash after her swearing obscenities. I stayed with Tweek, shakily disentangling my fingers from his and trying to find my chair that was somewhere, anywhere behind me . . . somewhere . . . . WHERE WAS THAT FUCKING CHAIR?!

'Craig.' Tweek softly grasped my arm and slowly and carefully guided me into my chair. Our knees were touching and I realised I was trembling.

'Craig. This is what I want to do. I want to be a primary school teacher. And I've been accepted at UCLA'.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know why our school insisted on us hanging around after final exams and assignments had been completed, but here we all were, a hotbed of grown ass teens just waiting to get on with the holidays and the next (grownup) section of their lives.

The teachers were on our side for the main, Ms Toula had already tried extensively campaigning for our release to no avail. Whether or not that was for her and her coleague's own preservation of sanity we don't know, but we appreciated the gesture none the less and it landed her chocolates and a much lower level of stupidity for the hours us seniors spent with her.

'Craig? Craig, you're not listening to me, are you?'

I was walking down the corridor with Wendy. She had decided that because we were going to attend Denver together and shared some of the same classes that I was her new best buddy. Or something like that. Actually, Wendy and I had started bonding at least three years back in our English Lit. class. Yeah, don't trust my memory of things, I'm extremely sketchy when relating anecdotes as I don't often care enough to pay attention to memorising the details.

Except that one time when Clyde was kissed by Kenny (Kenny ambushed him on a dare) and pulled them both into Token's pool in shock . . .

Or when Token and Jimmy concussed each other playing Shopping Cart Jousting . . .

Or anything to do with Tweek . . . .

Tweek. My brain once again went to its main activity these days, counting down weeks, days, hours, minutes, until . . . until . . . .

It had been at least a month since he'd told me his plans to move away, to become a primary school teacher, and I was still having problems processing both of those concepts. It didn't fit. It wasn't right. It . . .

'CRAIAIAIAIAIGGGGG!' Wendy resorted to a higher pitch and grabbed my arm, which I instinctively grabbed back. No touching the goods without permission!

'What'. I was feeling to meh again to commit to any tone of voice or shit like that.

'I was asking, for the billionth time, do you think we should get out a final sneak edition of the school paper before we leave?'

'What? I don't care, go ask Jimmy or some shit like that' That's what she was asking? We were in our final days here and that's what she was asking. Geez, Wendy, get a life.

'Well, no, Mr Grouchypants, I'll need your help, the turnaround will be tight. And I've asked Jimmy and Mr Jinsky. They've both ok'd it and Mr Jinsky said we can have a sneek extra credit for it . . . ' she kept rambling on whilst I looked down the corridor and suddenly the student body, our academic cohort snapped into view in my brain.

Butters hopping excitedly from one foot to another as he chatted to Stephanie, (originally North Park but without the stick up her ass), more North Park original clones in Stacy (Prom Queen) and her minions Amber and Sharelle and Kayla and a host of others, they try and glide down the hall as if its Versailles, however, raging hormone fest Clyde and buddy Kevin try and talk to them and get wiped out! But now they're homing in on Stan and Wendy is moving from my side REALLY quickly and . . .

I've seen this scene played out a million times before with a billion different variations over the past five years or so, ever since we were all thrown together in middle school. Hell, Stacy even tried it on Tweek several times over the years. And I mean SEVERAL times. I mean, I get hit on too . . . why am I even thinking this crap?

'Craig' This is a different voice, one I'm attuned to taking notice of. His pale hand is on my sleeve, the nails on his fingers chewed down all unevenly and the edges of the skin around the nail bed all rough and unkempt.

'Hey Tweek'. I snap out of my reviery of the futility of my peers and their actions and look and turn to face him. He is the one person in this corridor that is deserving of my full attention at any time or place.

'You ok?' He can tell from my expression that I'm not, Tweek's not stupid, not by a long shot. But I'm damned if I'm going down that road with him. Instead I slip my arm around his waist and snuggle my head into the crook of his neck. His arms reach around to cuddle me and we lean against the lockers together for a few moments, watching as Bebe, Red, Nichole and the rest of the girls gang forwards to back Wendy in what looks like the final showdown between them before we all get forced into growing up.

Tweek pets my hair as the angry words start flying and more and more students start gathering 'round, Cartmans excited 'C'mon you ghys!' heard between the sass talk of the girls, along with Jimmy's excited stutter as he cheers them on and Kenny's 'Woooohoooo!'s, all distinctly recognisable above the general mob sounds.

'I wish they wouldn't' Tweek says, shifting position as a locker dial dug into his back. 'I mean, this isn't how we should be remembering school'.

'This isn't how we'll remember school'. I pull my head up from his shoulder, this position is twisting my back due to the fact he's shorter. 'Well, we will remember the girls fighting, but not just this one, we'll sort of put all our collective memories of their fights into one sort of basket in our heads, and . . '

During my ramblings it looked like the spat had fizzled out and Stacy and her entourage continued to sweep on their way down what they obviously considered to be a catwalk. They talked and laughed as they passed and Tweek whispered in my ear 'Wendy won'. He knew I wouldn't be paying any attention to that sort of shit. I glanced over at her, hanging off Stan and suddenly the massive feeling of futility was drowning me again. Why? What just happened and why? Did it even matter?

Tweeks arms seemed to tighten around me, although I could have been imagining that. Clyde and Kevin and Token came over, plans were made for after school, the bell rang and next class was on a roll. All like any other day. Just like any other day. But it wasn't. It didn't feel right and I didn't like it. And after a month of feeling like this I was sick of it. But what could I do?


End file.
